


Watch My Heart Burn

by MXXNTAEIL



Series: A Lethal Combination [2]
Category: ONEUS (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Blossoming Friendship, Bullying, Confessions, Drowning, Hwanwoong loves fire, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Keonhee likes the water, Kissing, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Mentioned Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups, Mentioned Kim Gunhak | Leedo, Near Death Experiences, Swimming Pools, Thunder and Lightning, Trauma, finally continuing the second part of this series smh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2020-11-08 18:01:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20839700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MXXNTAEIL/pseuds/MXXNTAEIL
Summary: Hwanwoong works his thumb against the wheel of the white Zippo lighter, trying to forget those who turned him into this mess.( Title from: watch - billie eilish )





	1. the fire you started in me

**Author's Note:**

> it’s !!! finally !!! here !!! i had actually started this way before november rain but i finished that one first and now i had finally gotten around to finishing the first part of this one!! im so excited and so happy to show everyone this and warning it’s not edited so pls excuse any mistakes. thank you :)

Hwanwoong doesn’t ever remember being so obsessed with fire as he is now. 

Something about the flames, the thought of the smoke, the remnants of embers in the soil, and the charred broken wood makes his stomach churn with a feeling of desire.

Flames against his skin reminded him of times he wishes to forget, but against others he finds comfort in watching the heat warm them to death, smothering them in blinding heat and passion. Sometimes it’s nice to hurt others as they had you, but the pleasure to hadn’t crossed him yet. 

And he can’t really place where the infatuation with destruction grew in his chest like the flames against a bush in a wildfire. The red and orange clouding his vision with wisps of gray smoke and embers grazing his cheeks in the haze were so inviting since ever. 

The boy wants to feel the inferno consume him as the wood crackles and falls around him and the gasoline fueling the rapidly growing rage inside of him. 

Hwanwoong thinks it was the captivating circus show of tigers jumping through hoops which never seemed to leave his mind. The tent top was lit ablaze and the screams haunted his nightmares, and he felt the arms grab his eight-year-old shoulders over and over again and shake him out of his daze before pulling him out of the tent. He would look back at the white-hot middle and dusty oranges while a stranger hoisted him over their shoulder, running away with the crowd.

Or maybe it was when his birthday candles left a messy candle wax cake behind because he waited for so long for his entire family to come together, and yet they didn’t even come. The candles were burnt out stubs Hwanwoong kept relighting in hopes of at least one of them appearing at the front door. He made the cake, he bought the candles, he did everything and even set up his own balloons. Yet, they had forgotten about him, and his birthday, and his existence, as they all went together on a small weekend trip without him.

He threw the cake away and lit all the firewood ablaze, letting the fire run for hours as he stared unmoving into the crackling wood. 

But maybe, he bets everything on this being the beginning, it was because Hwanwoong was burned and beaten into the school’s brick wall. Sometimes he stares at the scars along his stomach and he remembers the old white stained Zippo lighter. He remembers the hard brick wall and its red surface so closely resembling the flames and the blood. He thinks of the white shirt he wore, and the chalk that rubbed off on the cloth from the younger grades drawings, and of the twisted features of the kids’ faces.

He sees their faces all the time, everywhere, but they’re blacked out or blurred. He can remember them so clearly but his memory paints them behind frosted glass or a smoke sheen at times. Hwanwoong didn’t want to remember, too, and so he didn’t, but he can see their hands and hear their voices and it doesn’t hurt less than it’s supposed to. 

It’s so hard, and he always wondered,  _why fire_? 

Why was the weapon fire? They could’ve used words or a pocket knife or even their own fists, but it was fire. 

Hwanwoong thought of it so much, flames became intriguing. He’s been trying to understand for years. Although, he could never ask because two of them were expelled and the gang leader moved away. 

Why fire? Why fire? Why fire? Why fire?

He was so gravitated to fire, he didn’t lean away from it like he had tried to when pressed against the brick wall. 

Sometimes he swears the scars would melt and ache like the fresh wounds they were back then, but he’d blink and the pain would dissipate and he wonders if he imagined it. Somehow it never failed to leave a bitter taste in his mouth, the fake pains felt so real. 

Yet he stood, and the pain was very much real, in a convenience store so very far from home. An excursion which should have lasted thirty minutes turned into three hours and counting with a dead phone and probably unbothered parents. 

He bought a lighter with the few dollars he had and leaned against the counter, the cashierwaiting beside him for another customer to come in with a textbook and college papers spread behind the display cases. Hwanwoong could faintly hear the rain when it began to sprinkle against the concrete and glass entry door. 

It was just background noise, and he tuned it out, flicking the Zippo lighter with his thumb, callused from working against the wheel and scraping it on concrete. The white exterior painted on the brass lighter was patchy, and he thought back to the pale white scars and the white shirt and the stained white Zippo lighter. 

“Can I borrow a sharpie?” Hwanwoong asked the employee, watching the blue highlighter in his hand drag across the page. The cashier turned around, a quizzical look crossing his face, but albeit he opened his backpack.

“What color?”

“Brown, or black.”

“Here,” he said, handing Hwanwoong a thin black sharpie.

“Thank you,” Hwanwoong said, flipping the lighter shut and uncapping the marker, dismissing the little ‘no problem’ from the employee. He started with a curved line crossing the paint, and vivid memories came back with the heat of the sun and obscure faces, the distinct feeling of uneven hardened clay gracing his backside. 

Mocking laughter and slurs rang in his ears, turning the feeling rising in his throat sour and bitter. He pulled the marker tip away and flicked the Zippo lighter open and stared at the orange flame. The familiarness made his skin crawl and the scars were melting from the heat in front of his face, and he took a breath.

_ The circus, the birthday, the brick wall–– _

He abruptly shut the lighter, and even the employee jumped at the sound. Hwanwoong exhaled, all the breath leaving his lungs in a prolonged departure, and he continued drawing all kinds of shapes and flowers. The sharpie followed the pattern of the stains as his hands absentmindedly drew them, but a garden of black and white appeared on the painted brass.

After a few minutes or so which felt like an eternity of staring at sharpie patterns, he rolled the marker over the counter and looked over his work. He doesn’t recall drawing the sunflowers or roses along the sides of the lighter, nor the squiggles of fake stains, but he stared at it unmoving.

Soon, he stared at the orange-white flame unmoving, and the rain hardening its torrent of water played like a worsening melody of stutters and thundering crashes. The crackles of thunder were irregular and lightning was blinding, but the rain thrumming against the windows and concrete melted into stomping footsteps.

He wasn’t shaken out of his devoted focus toward the fire, only when the footsteps stopped abruptly in the doorway of the convenience store. The bell rang signifying the new customer, and the latch of the door followed a few seconds later than it was supposed to. Over the top of the flame in his peripheral was a familiar but strikingly unfamiliar face.

With a nerve in his body tingling, he shut the lighter and his eyes followed the stranger as he started walking swiftly. Hwanwoong stopped leaning against the countertop and followed behind slowly, and came across the other picking up an umbrella from the rack.

“Hey, kid,” Hwanwoong said, his voice ringing in his own ears. It felt like nails against the chalkboard at how stiff he sounded to himself, and he blinked slowly. The stranger tensed up, and Hwanwoong looked over his face and towering stature.

It clicked, very suddenly, of who the other was.

He thought back to all of the times he’s seen or heard of him at school. Of how he doesn’t show up to lunch, isn’t in any clubs or sports, of how weird he was for not talking. Hwanwoong heard about the student council trying to pry information out of him for fundraising events and charity, but the boy tensed up so abruptly and harshly, and he just shook his head and left. 

He’s heard about his stunning test scores and high grades and wonderful papers from the staff. He’s heard about him not speaking up for himself or fighting back, and even when he does talk he’s supposedly very awkward and says weird things. Hwanwoong only heard his name once or twice in the rumors and gossip and stories, and it’s Keonhee. 

Keonhee waves with a slight smile, his eyes trailing around everywhere but failed to meet Hwanwoong’s eyes. “Rumors true? You don’t speak?” Hwanwoong says, because he’s always been curious, and he half expects no reply or gesture to satisfy his curiosity.

The other boy barely nods, and Hwanwoong continues, “Cool, cool. Are you mute?” It seems innocent enough of a question, not too prying or expectant of more than a yes or no. Hwanwoong isn’t wanting an explanation for why, and these answers are going to stay with him only, anyway.

Again, Keonhee only answers with a shake of his head, his answer being no, and he seems to be waiting for something. His shoulders haven’t dropped, and his grip seemed to have tightened on the umbrella he held. Hwanwoong watches for a moment, eyes drifting around the corner of the store before he thinks, he probably wants to leave. A quiet ‘oh!’ passes his lips and he backs up against the stocked shelves in order to not block the path.

Keonhee scurries by, wet shoes making a small squeak against the tile flooring, and Hwanwoong follows the other to the register and leaned against the doorframe to the entryway. The quiet exchange of money at the register was masked by a loud crackling of thunder which rippled across the sky and echoed into the dark afternoon. 

“What grade are you in?” Hwanwoong asks, pulling the Zippo lighter from the pocket he shoved it in earlier, flicking it absently. He looked up at Keonhee who had looked over from the register, an unreadable emotion crossing his features, and Hwanwoong corrects himself after remembering the other doesn’t talk. “Sorry, are you in twelfth grade?” 

“Have a nice day,” the cashier says, and Keonhee shook his head before turning around and stopping in front of Hwanwoong.

“Eleventh?” At this, Keonhee nods, and Hwanwoong hits the wheel of Zippo once more and watched the flame rise before extinguishing it with the lid of the lighter. “Mind if we share an umbrella?”

_ Please say yes – no, actually – please nod. _

He watched the dark haired boy hesitate, his shoulders moving noticeably, and Hwanwoong gave a smile he hoped was convincing. The edges may have been quivering because he felt the tremors, although he wished it wasn’t showing. And Keonhee nodded at the smile, and Hwanwoong let out a shuddering breath.

They could only take a few steps outside, their shoes immediately becoming soaked, before a stutter in the rainfall and a roar of thunder made Hwanwoong sigh. The umbrella was useless,the rain was falling slanted, and the would get some part of their bodies wet no matter what angle they pointed the umbrella at. “Wanna run?” Hwanwoong said, gesturing to the sheltered bus stop at the edge of the street. Hwanwoong didn’t see the other hesitate this time, instead Keonhee agreed fairly quickly.

Hwanwoong grinned and grabbed his wrist, setting off in a sprint with the thumping of their feet melting in with the harsh rainfall strumming against the pavement. It was only a few seconds but the rain caught on them quickly, and the duo were very, very damp. Their backs met with the bus stop shelter’s glass walls harshly, and if the wind wasn’t already knocked out of them it was now.

They laughed unexpectedly, chests rising and falling together. When they finally calmed down, Hwanwoong turned to Keonhee, “Can I check the bus schedule on your phone?” he said. “Mine’s dead, it’s why I was stuck lingering at the,” he sniffled, “the store.” He wiped his face with his shirt, and when the cold air hit his stomach he dropped the hem immediately. 

Keonhee seemed to buffer, as if he were some malfunctioning NPC in a video game, but only for a fraction of a second, and he gave his opened phone to Hwanwoong. 

_ God, it’s been so long. _ The blond looked at the bright screen with numbers and arrows and all the like, and it was so confusing. He doesn’t use the bus schedule website often since he usually walks home or has a ride, so Hwanwoong felt like he was entering some sort of new territory. With showing his confusion visibly to Keonhee, he was given help at the expense of having the other lean far too close.

Maybe it was just his mind blurring away into murky water, losing its clarity and sense of reality, but he swore his stomach was twisting up only because of the unfamiliar closeness, not because of anything else.

“The next bus is at... six? What time is it now?” Hwanwoong mumbled, and Keonhee reached over to swipe the screen to display the time. “Are you kidding—thirty minutes?”

After a ruffle to blond hair paired with a disgruntled huff, Hwanwoong handed back the phone just as his fingertips started to itch. He reached into his jacket pocket and brought out the white Zippo lighter, slumping back against the bus station wall, and watched the orange and white flame burn to life. 

“Here, bring me your hands,” he said, watching Keonhee’s movements carefully. The presumed younger was pressing into his thin jacket, hands shaking ever so slightly from where they rested on the slits of his ripped jeans. Keonhee’s shoulders stilled, and Hwanwoong faltered.  _ Is he nervous?  _ “I’m not gonna...” he trailed off, eyes following cracks in the pavement before he gazed across the street at the other bus stop. He re-flicked the lighter, and he wasn’t sure if it was out of habit anymore, or whether it was just another reassurance he was still living and breathing on earth right now. “I’m not gonna burn you. Just going to get us a bit warm.”

The light of a lamppost was caught in Keonhee’s eye when his head turned, and the flicker of yellow made the brown irises glow amber. Hwanwoong caught the relax of his shoulders as Keonhee’s trembling hands to the flame. And it was simple, and quiet, and easy for the both of them to leave it all alone.

A flash of lightning, and hum of thunder, and Hwanwoong wanted  _ something  _ to happen. He wasn’t sure  _ what _ , but he knew  _ how _ to get there.  _ Maybe Keonhee wanted the same thing too? _ He sniffled, the thought leaving his mind. He barely knows Keonhee and he already has so many questions to ask. 

“Are you cold?”  _ Well, that’s a stupid question, Hwanwoong. Good job.  _ Keonhee nodded, and then, “Are you curious about the scars?” It’s not like Hwanwoong is ashamed of them, he knew they were there and frankly, he couldn’t care less about them. Everyone made it out to be such a big deal when it shouldn’t be. He breathed out slowly, breathing out until his lungs ached from lack of air. 

He shuffled his arms into a more comfortable position, watching the flame quiver, and the sound of the rain became clear again. “I...” Keonhee’s voice made his head shoot up, “I wanted to know if... if the scar rumors are true.” 

“Yeah,” Hwanwoong said, “they are.” With only a second to debate with his inner self, he added, “Burned, beaten, crazy.” And on a whim of not wanting the conversation to stall, “Bruise right here, too, hasn’t healed fully,” he rolled up his sleeve a little, big light colored yellow spots disappeared into the denim. The spots seemed to rip open a new wound inside of his chest when Keonhee stared. Hwanwoong couldn’t understand the face Keonhee made, the subtle changes in his expression made his chest hurt. 

“Does it still hurt?” 

“Most of them don’t, they’ve gone light and yellow and lost their pain.” Hwanwoong brought both hands around the Zippo lighter again. “Some of them are still blue and green and yellow, and they hurt pretty bad.” He trained his eyes to the flame while Keonhee sniffled. 

“Do you— Do you know what they say? About you?” Keonhee’s voice barely shakes for once, and it doesn’t come as a shock to the blond like he thought it would. 

He licks his dry lips, the rain being drowned out by how hard he’s focusing on putting the right words together. “Some things I do know, like about the challenge to get past the gates. It’s a lie,” Hwanwoong says, staring into the little fire, his mind running circles, “the cleaners got to it.

And I know about the locker room scandals how I’m supposedly peeking at the other guys or the student council stuff about me trying to  _seduce_, ” he spit out the poisonous words, and Keonhee jumped a bit, “the president. Both of those aren’t true, by the way.” His laughter comes out dry, but probably fake enough to mask the irritation prickling at his tongue. He doesn’t want to scare Keonhee away now by getting upset.

He looked up at the brown haired boy, eyes alight with amusement. But Keonhee’s face seems hesitant, almost, and Hwanwoong stopped smiling, “Oh no, there’s  more ?” 

_What else do they say? Do they literally have all the time in the world to come up with stupid stories? _

“It’s not much,” Keonhee says, his voice soft, softer than before. It makes a part of Hwanwoong’s chest ache. “Your scars... your obsession with fire.”

Lightning flashed and thunder hummed, and the blond grit his teeth lightly.

“Oh, what about my, uh, scars?” Hwanwoong cursed at himself. Where had his little confidence gone? One small, absolutely minuscule mention of his  scars had his breathing grow slightly uneven and pictures of the birthday, the circus, and the brick wall swirl behind his eyes. Was his vision going dark, or was it just the lamppost lights dimming?

“The basketball captain.” It was definitely just the lamppost lights.

“Seungcheol,” he could hear his own voice wither, and he felt pathetic, “saw... them.” He shut the brass Zippo lighter and worked his calloused thumb against the wheel to get some sort of order back into his life right now.

The small flame wavered in the cold wind, his bones were bitten and bruised by the chilly air. But the screeching of wheels interrupted him as the bus rolled to a stop. He stuffed the Zippo lighter into his pocket and stood up, extending his hand out to Keonhee who grabbed it.

Even after they boarded the bus, and Keonhee paid both their fairs with no resistance from Hwanwoong, they never let go of their hands. A nagging feeling in the back of Hwanwoong’s head told him to let go of the other boy, but he ignored it because the warmth was addicting. Until he had an idea when they sat down in their seats. 

He took his hand away and sifted through his jacket pockets, pulling out the lighter and a small keychain with an invisible pen attached to it. “Here, can I have your number? I don’t have any other pens, sorry,” he said, nudging the other boy with the blacklight pen cap.

“Why... an invisible pen?” The gentleness in his voice dug a knife straight through the open wound in his chest.  Why is he so soft-spoken?

“Gag gift package from old friends,” Hwanwoong said, giving a tiny grin, but he stilled for a fraction of a second, his own words ringing in his head.  _ Old friends. _ He rolled up his denim sleeve. “Speaking of friends, I wanna be yours. So,” he held out the pen, and Keonhee took it, “how about a number?”

_ Whatever. I don’t need them, Keonhee’s way cooler. God, I sound like a kid,  _ Hwanwoong sighed internally at himself. He held the black light above his arm while Keonhee scribbled out his number, and he noticed how the brunet avoided the faded yellow splotches.

“Thanks, kid. I’ll call you, or text, probably, when my phone’s charged.”

“I’m not,” Keonhee said before clearing his throat, “I’m not a kid. We have to be the same age, right?”

“Huh?” The corners of Hwanwoong’s lips twitched up in a slight smile. “What year?”

“‘98.”

His smile grew,  _ he better not be older than me. _ “What month?”

“June,” Keonhee said slowly, and the blond’s grin fell. His jaw fell dramatically, part of his past self before ‘the incident’ shining through.

“Are you kidding? I was born in August. This isn’t fair.” Hwanwoong hummed, flicking the lighter, before looking up and meeting the judgemental gaze of a scraggly night dweller, dirty and hungover, and he flipped the Zippo lighter shut. He wiped his damp jacket sleeve over the marker doodles on the small object, smudging away the ink. Pieces of the white paint chipped off with the black and white garden and traced stains.

The bus rolled to a stop, and it jerked forward before the doors creaked open. “Alright, I have to catch two more buses if the rain doesn’t shake off, or else I’m walking home. You staying here?” Hwanwoong said, standing up and adjusting his clothes.

Keonhee nodded, and the blond waved goodbye to him, walking down the empty aisle. “Bye…”

He debated on his next words for a few quick moments before throwing it to the wind. “Oh, and I’ll see you Monday. Let’s catch each other outside the school gate, okay?”

“Yeah…” Keonhee trailed off, “see you Monday.” Hwanwoong smiled, edges soft and eyebrows not creased but instead raised high and carefree. He swung around and grabbed the railing leading down the bus stairs, giving the brown haired boy one last wave. 

He heard the doors shut behind him, the bus pulled away into the evening. 

Hwanwoong sniffled, rubbing his nose with a sleeve-covered hand. His hair was drenched, the rain made the products in his hair run down the back of his neck. He just wanted to be home right now. Or just anywhere but here on the sidewalk where he felt so alone, more alone than before, and it’s like the day is repeating.

He’s in a constant loop of walking along this street, the street which mirrored every other street in this rotten city. Time blurred together as he followed the familiar cracks in the concrete, avoiding paper scraps and cigarette ashes, sidestepping puddles no matter how tempting it was to jump in them. He wasn’t going to take the next bus home, or the next, or the next. There wasn’t any next bus home. Hwanwoong didn’t want to worry Keonhee in case relying on the other in the slightest bit more than he already had would scare away the quiet boy. 

He couldn’t afford to lose any more friends because he didn’t have many left. Echoes of laughter sent a shooting pain through the wound in his chest. It was lonely without friends, and no matter how horrible those friends were they were better than no one at all.

The chilly air numbed his skin and bit his bones with jagged teeth. Rain seeped into his skin and watered down his sense of direction, and he wandered. His legs walked on autopilot so he never felt the pain of crossing those dead streets he knew by heart even in darkness. The darkness that threatened to shake him out of his mind. And the looming shadows that chased him out of the corner of his eye like the kids who burned his skin. 

He arrived at his doorstep, he was sure it was his home this time, and took off his jacket on the porch.  _ Remember, they won’t care. They won’t care, and they’ll never care, so you don’t have to explain yourself to them, _ Hwanwoong reminded himself, but the words didn’t reassure him anymore because it was just a part of his routine. And he opened his front door with a key tucked into the flowers sitting in a hand-painted pot beside it. 

Again, as Hwanwoong stared at his mother in the eye when he walked into the hallway, he would walk past her. He never knew if she was afraid to ask where he’d been for so long in case he’d lash out like his older brother, or if she didn’t care enough to actually worry. 

Again, as Hwanwoong brushed past his father in the living room when he kept his head low, he would feel like a monster was about to attack him from out of nowhere, and he walked past him. His father was a man Hwanwoong wasn’t afraid of, but maybe it was the way he held himself that made his son feel uneasy just in his vicinity. The man never failed to stir up a feeling in his gut, and right now several separate knives dug into the raw and red wound in his chest. This time, the silver burned and charred his skin, and he could hear the kids’ voices and feel their touches and their stained white Zippo lighter’s flame.

Again, Hwanwoong would feel out of place in his home, and he would wish the entire incident would have never happened, and he would work his thumb against his favorite Zippo lighter when he entered his room and unpacked. A navy blue lighter with a silver key drawn on either side.

But the flame wouldn’t spark up this time.  _ I should have bought a fluid refill from Gunhak.  _ He sighed and resisted throwing his prized possession to the organized section of lighters on his desk.

Again, Hwanwoong became frustrated, not only with himself, but with everyone in his life. His chest became heavy, his lungs were gray with smoke, and his body was freezing cold. But not everything was so bad, he remembered, he still had one more chance. 

One more chance, with Keonhee.

_Keonhee_.  Suddenly, his fingertips started to tingle and his headspace grew hazy. It was okay, he was going to be  okay. 

Monday was the day he would find out whether he could pull himself together and secure one last chance at  anything.  He grazed over the Zippo lighter he bought at the convenience store today, and wondered.

“Monday,” he says, voice barely shaking above a breath. The smoke in his lungs vanished as he breathed in until it hurt, the weight slowly lifting off of his chest. 

His chest hurt. Blood ran from the raw wound, and his ivory ribs shattered and opened like the doors to a birdcage although less grand, and he smiled softly. 

One last chance.

He had one last chance.

_Monday_. 


	2. ill never let you back to put it out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Looking at Keonhee, watching the blue water reflection move stripes across his skin, made something in his chest seize and crumble away painstakingly slow. Hwanwoong felt as if something had changed between them.

“Is this... is this illegal?” 

Hwanwoong shivers slightly, shoving his hands deeper into the pockets of his coat and turning around to face Keonhee. It wasn’t very cold outside, he was just felt a surge of excitement rattling down his spine. He gave the other a smile, “Not unless anyone catches us, but also, I pulled a few strings so most likely nothing’s going to happen.” 

He pulled a silver key out of his pocket, unlocking the gate to the community pool. Hwanwoong pushed it open and let Keonhee explore while he walked into the ‘EMPLOYEES ONLY’ shed. After shedding his coat and grabbing a few snacks his friend who set this up for him left out, he walked out to see Keonhee already having his feet dipped into the water with the lights on. 

It’s been a month since their first meeting at the convenience store that rainy day, and it was scarily easy for Hwanwoong to admit how much he really enjoyed Keonhee and his weird friendship. The two got along almost smoothly, apart from the expected bumps and dips in the road, and they never toed the stark lines of each other’s breaking points. They may not have had much in common, but that’s what made them _work. _

Hwanwoong knew but didn’t understand Keonhee’s habit of collecting art books and cutting up the pages to paste the art all over his room. He hasn’t seen any of it in person, just a picture of some of it when Keonhee and he were texting. The boy was studying late at night, sending a picture of his notebooks and desk when he refused to walk around town with Hwanwoong. The blond was a tad bit shocked seeing the fantastical art taped up behind the desk, pages overlapping each other and cutouts decorating pieces that weren’t their own. It was some kind of strangely beautiful collage in dark hues illuminated by the white lamplight overhead. Hwanwoong thought the picture was so pretty he saved it, and it’s one of his most favorite things Keonhee’s ever sent him. 

And Keonhee knew about, but probably didn’t understand, Hwanwoong’s collection of lighters. He said it was “interesting” over text and Hwanwoong can’t tell whether he was intrigued or disappointed. The conversation didn’t go much past that as it was yet again late in the night and Keonhee had an AP Chemistry test the next morning. 

Little things, just little things they knew about each other. Some surface level, others not exactly secrets but things the average person didn’t know about. Stupid, unimportant, little things. Like favorite colors, childhood best friend (that was actually a bit of a tough subject for Keonhee for some reason, and Hwanwoong made the conversation trudge past despite the curt answer threatening to kill the mood), least favorite teacher, and everything in between and after. 

Little things, just little things.

“Are you gonna stand over there forever, huh?” Keonhee called, a soft smile stretching across his face. 

Something in Hwanwoong tensed before crumbling away slowly with a small ache. 

Little things, just little things.

He felt like something was going to happen tonight, but he ignored the looming feeling of alarm and smiled back. The corners of his smile were withering with every step closer he took to the pool edge. Hwanwoong kicked off his socks and shoes and sat with his feet in the water. 

The water was cold, and all he could hear in the quiet was katydids and crickets among the soft movement of the water with Keonhee’s swinging legs. Chilly air nipped at his exposed skin, wrapping around his limbs and dragging him further into himself, he shivered a bit. 

“Want to... swim?” Keonhee whispered, leaning down to pluck something off his leg. He looked up at Hwanwoong, the blue lights reflecting in his eyes and making them look like dark pools Hwanwoong wanted to curl up and drown in. 

“I,” he held his breath, words lingering on his tongue and growing sour, “don’t want to. You can go ahead, I’ll stay here.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I’ll probably join you later anyway.” 

Keonhee nodded, giving a noise as a response, throwing off his shirt and ruffling through his bag for the shorts Hwanwoong told him to pack. He disappeared behind Hwanwoong as the blond continued to stare into the bright blue water, and came back to dip slowly into the pool with the shorts on. 

For awhile, Keonhee swam almost noiselessly, and he looked like a fish in its natural habitat swimming through the water. Hwanwoong was submerged in himself, and his vision was going out of focus a bit from how hard he was thinking.

He pulls a Zippo lighter out of his pants pocket, and this one is one of his more special ones. Keonhee had taken an interest in this one when Hwanwoong first showed him two weeks ago. It was a copper one with an engraving of his name on it, a gift from one of his old friends. 

Hwanwoong works his thumb against the wheel of the lighter, watching the flame flicker alive with a spark. He felt some kind of warmth draped over him like a heavy blanket, weighing down his chest and it made it hard to breathe. The raw and red wound he thought of so often reopens with the _clink_ of the lighter lid. 

“Woong.” He looks up, meeting eyes with dark, watery pools of reflected blue light. Water dripped down Keonhee’s face from his hair, and something in his chest clenched at the sight. The boy waded over pulled himself up onto the ledge, “You okay?” 

Hwanwoong’s noticed how much more... carefree Keonhee’s become around him. Talking more, cracking jokes at times, smiling, and it does a number to Hwanwoong every time.

He curled the edges of his lips up into a withering smile he hoped was convincing, and by the glint in Keonhee’s eyes, he knows it wasn’t. Hwanwoong glances down at the flame for a moment before closing it, feeling the suffocation of the flame in his own chest as it burns away the heavy blanket settled over him. His chest is lighter, and he takes a deep breath. 

“When you close your eyes,” Hwanwoong turns to look at Keonhee and his wide, dark pools of reflected light, and reaches out to shut them, eliciting a giggle from the other boy, “what do—be quiet—what do you see?”

Keonhee listens, hushing his giggle but not quite letting the soft smile fade. Hwanwoong found himself resisting the urge to study his soft-edged features. 

“I don’t see much.” 

“Then imagine something, something important to you, and don’t tell me what it is.” 

“Okay!” 

Hwanwoong stood up, “Keep your eyes closed, and describe what you imagined without telling me what that thing is.” 

Keonhee nodded, and Hwanwoong walked over to their bags to ruffle through his to find his swim shorts. He changed into them quickly. 

“The thing is... it’s very colorful but dark in some aspects, and it’s small,” Keonhee laughed a bit behind his hand. _Little things, just little things._ “The thing makes me feel safe, and at home even when I’m far away from it. I really like this thing.”

Hwanwoong hummed in response. “Tell me more.” He walked back over to the pool and took off his shirt, leaving his tank top on. He slipped into the water quietly and waded over to where Keonhee sat.

“Uh, the thing, I haven’t had it for long. I want to keep it to myself forever.”

“Alright, that’s good. Now open your eyes.” Hwanwoong startled Keonhee when he put his wet hands on the other’s knees. The boy opened his eyes and kicked playfully at Hwanwoong. “_Hey!_” Keonhee only giggled at his outburst. 

“Shut up, I didn’t do anything—“

“Didn’t do anything? You tried to _kick_ me!”

“So? It’s not—“ Keonhee cut himself off with a small shriek as Hwanwoong pulled him into the water. He splashed water at the blond and feigned innocence dramatically as Hwanwoong squawked at him.

They laughed, and it echoed into the night air. A weight dropped onto Hwanwoong’s brittle ivory rib cage as they settled in the water. He looked over and saw the blue light reflecting onto Keonhee’s face and into his eyes, swirling into a deep whirlpool of endless waters. 

His breath caught in his chest. Maybe it was just the water pressure, maybe Hwanwoong couldn’t handle it. 

“Woong,” Keonhee’s face had fallen, “seriously, are you okay? You’ve been like this all night. What’s up?” 

Hwanwoong tensed, _have I really been that noticeable? _

“Woong.” He turned away from Keonhee. “Woong, come on.” The boy’s sentence trailed off into a desperate whine, and Hwanwoong felt something in his chest seize before crumbling away. 

He sees his vision blur. _What is wrong with me today? _

“Hwanwoong, please—“

“I don’t know!” Hwanwoong interrupted in a shrill tone before inhaling until his lungs ache, forcing his voice to be a level tone, “I don’t- I don’t know, okay? Everything’s just... something is wrong with me and I don’t know what to do.” 

Keonhee looks taken aback by the sudden outburst. He sounds almost scared when he whispers, “Hey, come on, don’t- don’t say that.” 

The world seems to stop spinning, hurling to a halt that flings Hwanwoong around his own head. When he glances up at Keonhee for a split second, he immediately regrets his decision. He sees the blue reflection on his pale skin, and the glistening water on his drying hair looked like cobalt blue stars smeared like glitter across dark hair. His vision blurs and he stares down into the blue water, looking at his distorted limbs under the surface. Something in his chest is clenched down in a tight fist, brittle ivory ribs flaking away into nothing. 

“Want to tell... tell me what’s going on inside your head? It seems pretty busy up there,” Keonhee whispered over the surface. Hwanwoong didn’t remember when he’d gotten closer. 

The blond screwed his eyes shut and swam over to the ledge, pulling himself up to find his lighter. What happened to little things? 

“Hey- hey, _no_.” Keonhee snatched the lighter out of his hand quickly. When did he follow him?

“Give it back—“

“I’m not going to give it back until you promise you're not going to hurt yourself,” Keonhee said sternly, holding the lighter far away from Hwanwoong’s reach. 

The blond stopped reaching. _How did he... _Hwanwoong’s callused fingertips were itching, eyes aching for the flame. 

“Please,” Hwanwoong muttered weakly, almost begging. A tiny flicker of frustration burned a hole in his chest. He saw the worry swimming blue laps in the dark pools. 

“Not until you tell me.” 

“Tell you what?” The flame burned a hole in his patience, he snapped, “That I’ve gone three weeks without burning myself? That I’m addicted to doing it because it’s the only thing that can distract me when everyone looks at me disappointed because I’m gay?” 

Keonhee stayed silent. 

“What do you want me to say?” Hwanwoong pauses, vision blurring up and tears slip down his cheeks when he turns his head downward. 

All of the buzzing of bugs seemed to pause, and all he could hear was his own heartbeat drumming faintly in his head. He could feel his head pulsing ever so slightly. 

“What if,” Hwanwoong almost forgot Keonhee was there, he had been so quiet, “I told you that I understand?” 

“Understand what?”

“Why... why you’re doing this.” He gestured to Hwanwoong’s burn-scarred arm. 

The blond almost laughed, eyebrows furrowing. “How could _you_ understand—“

“Because _I_ almost drowned. Some kids that bullied me back in the day shoved my head underwater and held me there for a bit before throwing me into the pool.” Keonhee’s grip loosened on the lighter, and he glanced at it for a moment before tossing it over to Hwanwoong. “I didn’t know how to swim, so I was thrashing around trying to find something to hold on to, and then I eventually found the edge of the pool.

“Idiots didn’t throw me in the middle of the pool, they just left me at the edge. And I climbed back up and coughed so hard I made myself vomit,” he says, and trails off with a small chuckle. Hwanwoong’s chest tightened as if something wrapped around his ivory ribs and squeezed them shut. He could feel his heartbeat entangled between the shackles now weighing down his body. “I’d been like yelling like a madman when I was trying not to die, and that clicked something in my dumb kid brain.”

Keonhee opened his mouth to continue, but Hwanwoong quickly asked, “How old were you?” 

“Thirteen,” he clicked his tongue, staring out into the blue water. Little things. “And I’d realized right then I was too quiet of a kid, even water could cover me up.”

The blond had let his gaze drift over the little speckles of things drifting over the water surface. He looked up to watch Keonhee’s blue expression, seeing the water waves color lines over his features. “Cover... you up? What?”

“I figured my voice couldn’t be heard over water at that point.” Keonhee pauses, glancing over at Hwanwoong, “So I stopped talking to anyone but... water.” 

“That’s—“

“Stupid, I know,” he sighs, Hwanwoong could see a few years drift off his shoulders, he looked thirteen again. Young, afraid, but he was learning something new about himself. Keonhee looked up into the star-smeared sky for a key that fits the hole in his chest, and Hwanwoong can tell he’d been looking for awhile. It seems as if Keonhee chose a star he’d like to place in the void, for now, testing it out to see what it’s like. “It’s so, _so_ stupid. But it works. It works for me like how fireworks for you, and I know you burn yourself as an outlet.”

Hwanwoong flicked the lighter open, callused thumb resting on the spark wheel. He didn’t ignite it. It’s not stupid, Keonhee. 

“I’m bad at talking, to other people, that is, but I’m saying I get it. We’re not the same person, we didn’t live through the same things, but we flocked to our ‘obsessions’ that stemmed from our traumas for a reason.” It was quiet for a moment, the water surface had stilled entirely. “We’re missing the realization of our pain and how we used to be before it and developed these tragic addictions to—to slowly kill ourselves off.” 

It wasn’t laughable, but Hwanwoong couldn’t help the bitter noise of amusement falling from his lips.

“Nothing kills a person quite like their mind, huh?”

“Are you trying to be deep?” Keonhee turns his head, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. 

“Maybe,” Hwanwoong humored, “maybe not.” 

Keonhee giggled at that, covering his mouth. “Okay, whatever. Do you want to swim some more?” 

“Actually,” Hwanwoong says, standing up and heading over to his bag, “why don’t we eat first?” He pulls out a bunch of snacks from behind it as he drops the lighter in his backpack. He gave Keonhee a withered smile, lips trembling ever so slightly. 

Keonhee’s eyes lit up, and they were blue from the water reflection. He stood up from his spot, only stumbling a little, and waited impatiently for Hwanwoong to open up something for him. The blond knew Keonhee struggled with opening things for some reason, it was just another little thing he knew.

Hwanwoong ignored the barrage of sentence fragments and irreplaceable emotions overloading his headspace, pushing it all into a mental pile and condensing it into a single thought he’d dwell on later. For right now, he was too focused on the first bit of fun he’s genuinely had in awhile.

The duo was walking back home, talking and laughing and enjoying the quiet night. Right now, the conversation had ended a few minutes ago and thought was buzzing around in Hwanwoong’s mind.

“Hey, Keonhee?” The boy hummed, looking over at Hwanwoong. “Remember earlier when I asked you to close your eyes and think of something important to you?” 

“Yeah, why?” 

Hwanwoong exhaled deeply, feeling the air traveling through the holes in his lungs. “What were you thinking of?” 

Keonhee didn’t respond for a while. All Hwanwoong could hear was the dull singing of katydids and crickets, all he could see was yellow streetlights shrouding small areas with light. 

“I was thinking... of you?” He says, the words sounding like more of a question than anything. Hwanwoong stops walking, staring at the back of Keonhee’s head. The boy turned around after realizing Hwanwoong halted. “Come on, it’s not that big of a deal.” 

He looked seventeen again. Blue light no longer reflected in his eyes, but warm yellow light exposed the dark pools and the embarrassment swimming laps in the irises. 

Hwanwoong looked anywhere but at Keonhee, walking forward again to catch up with him. 

_“The thing is... it’s very colorful but dark in some aspects, and it’s small,” Keonhee laughed a bit behind his hand. “The thing makes me feel safe, and at home even when I’m far away from it. I really like this thing. I want to keep it to myself forever.” _

Something in his chest tightened immensely before letting him go, and Hwanwoong ignored the fluttery feeling of tattered butterfly wings in his ribcage. 

“Here’s your stop,” Hwanwoong says, hopping up onto the railing of Keonhee’s porch. It was well past midnight, and the two had ditched the idea of taking the bus. They walked through the night, guided by the yellow lamp post lighting. 

Hwanwoong had thought it would be awkward on the walk home, but when they were chased out of the convenience store Hwanwoong dragged them into, it all seemed to return to normal. Shared laughter, shared glances, shared thoughts, everything fell back into place as if their conversation never happened. 

It was bugging him, but he has no idea what to say. 

“Guess so.” Keonhee smiles, “Text me when you get home, okay?”

He rummaged through his backpack presumably for his keys. Hwanwoong watched on. 

“My phone’s dead.” Keonhee looked up, rolling his eyes, before giggling.

“Of course it is.” He fished the keys out of the front pocket before setting it by the door. The boy walks over to Hwanwoong, and the blond already knows what to expect. It was another little thing he knew about him.

“Can you-“ Hwanwoong grunted as Keonhee smothered his tiny stature in a hug, “can’t you stop strangling me every time?” His voice was rough, but his arms wrapped around the other’s torso nonetheless. 

The hug was warm, Keonhee was always warm. It was surprising to learn the fact, as well as being told his skin was “like icicles” by Keonhee. 

He pulled away, ruffling his hair back into place with one hand, the other still clutching the fabric of Keonhee’s hoodie. Hwanwoong looked up into his eyes, seeing something being drowned in the dark irises. He didn’t say anything, knowing Keonhee would act on it by himself, he just needed a little more time. 

No one ever really gave him that time before. 

Keonhee’s teeth tugged at his plump bottom lip. _Take your time,_ Hwanwoong’s eyes wandered from the sight to gaze at the moon behind them. His mind started drifting, melting into a puddle, as he stared at the weeping moon turning stars to dust. 

Hwanwoong jumped at the feeling of lips being pressed against his forehead. He gawked at Keonhee as he parted. The boy’s shoulders were shaking, his face betraying a smile and quiet giggling, feathery brown strands of hair falling into his eyes. 

_God,_ Hongjoong’s chest tightened as if his ribcage was snapping shut around his lungs, heart picking up the pace ever so slightly.

“Text me when you get home and charge your phone, and I mean it,” Keonhee says, pulling away, “and be safe. Take the bus.”

Hwanwoong gave a withered smile, eyebrows raised, “What? Do you not trust me to walk by myself?” Nothing in his chest seems to be functioning properly right now. His lungs were shuddering, and his heart was falling apart achingly slow. His brittle ivory ribs were painfully rigid. _What’s wrong with me?_

“I do trust you, Woong...” Keonhee trailed off, wetting his lips, face losing the playful smile for just a moment. As soon as Hwanwoong blinked, the smile was back, but the soft corners were tucked away into a sadder, softer smile. 

_This isn’t like him._

“I’ll be fine, I promise. I will take the bus and not let any strange men get into my pants.” Hwanwoong was desperate to turn the mood back around, and he was successful as the brunet giggled softly into the back of his hand. 

“Good... I’m glad.” 

Hwanwoong felt a weight lift off his chest, rib cage opening once more, as Keonhee left his arms. A swirling feeling in the pit of his stomach sucked the ease out of his headspace. The weight that had left his chest barreled into his back as he stumbled forward, following Keonhee closer to the door. 

“Goodnight,” Keonhee whispered, turning to go inside.

Something inside of Hwanwoong unraveled and forced him to latch his hand into Keonhee’s sleeve. “_Wait_, I... I just...” His sentence fizzled out. 

“What’s wrong?” Keonhee quietly shut the door again, coming closer to the blond. Worry swam endlessly in the illusory dark pools of the night sky. 

He didn’t know what came over him, and he placed his empty hand on the collar of Keonhee’s hoodie. Hwanwoong tugged him down to his height. 

“Please, can- can I kiss you?” Hwanwoong whispered, desperation lacing his hurried words, into the breath fanning against his lips. His eyes were screwed shut in fear of seeing Keonhee’s expression. 

The heat came closer, soft lips ghosting across his own. “_Yes._” 

It was... sweet. Keonhee tasted like sugar, pure warm sugar, and some kind of flavored mint. A hand rested gently on the side of his face, another holding the hand on Keonhee’s collar.

Keonhee giggles into his lips, stepping closer, letting Hwanwoong’s arms wrap around him. His own hands tangled in the blond hair, and the other holding one of Hwanwoong’s hips. 

_If this isn’t euphoria..._

They parted with a gasp for air. The two locked eyes, falling into each other with laughter. Hwanwoong let Keonhee go when he stepped back. 

“Goodnight,” Hwanwoong says, a soft smile on his lips. Keonhee rushes forward to peck the corner of his lips before opening the front door.

“Goodnight, Woong,” he grinned, waving softly at the stunned boy before picking up his backpack and heading inside.

The door closed with a small snap shut. Hwanwoong had a small buzzing feeling burning in his chest, patching up the holes in his lungs up one by one. 

He could breathe again. 

_He could breathe again._

Hwanwoong inhaled until his chest ached at the stretch. And he didn’t breathe out until he made his way down the porch steps. His brittle ivory ribs were resting for once, not clutching his lungs or threatening to burst out of his chest. His heart was beating slowly, his lungs moving steadily, his brain soaking in the syrupy, dazed headspace full of muddled emotions. 

The walk home was sobering. 

He didn’t take the bus, he hated the bus. His phone wasn’t dead, he just needed a break. 

Hwanwoong’s mind wandered as his body moved on autopilot, following the streets back home. 

And when he arrived at his doorstep, he saw the lights were on in the living room. He took the keys from the flowerpot. He went inside. He passed by his mom in the hallway, not bothering to make eye contact with her. 

Hwanwoong passed by his father, feeling knives drag down into his chest. He didn’t hear the kid’s voices, but he saw the scorching gaze burn holes into him. A faceless monster grabbing at his neck and clothes, pushing him against the brick wall—

_It’s not real._

He walked into his room and unpacked his backpack. The copper lighter falling out from where it was wrapped in between his clothes, and he picked it up. His thumb ran over the engraving. 

_I’m not going to give it back until you promise you're not going to hurt yourself._

Hwanwoong felt like he was submerged underwater. Keonhee’s voice replaying like a broken record in his head. He flicked it open, striking it to watch the little flame burn to life. 

Watching the flame... his heart felt warm as if it was encased in the fire. He heard the rain and felt the cold water seep into his clothes at the bus stop, his hands holding steady so he wouldn’t burn Keonhee.

_Is that where it started?_ Hwanwoong blinked slowly. _Is that why I’m like this?_

He shut the lighter abruptly, the snap ringing in his ears, and he gripped it tight. A deep breath left the blond’s chest with a slow huff. He flung the lighter across the bed and fell back into the comforter. 

A dazed smile tugged on the corners of his lips, a warm, buzzing feeling numbing his fingertips. _All because of Keonhee. _Katydids and crickets ringing in his ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi hello!!! i suddenly got inspired to continue writing this again and bust it out in a handful of hours bc i missed writing this couple :( 
> 
> also,,, since this is the end,, i get to start the final part of this series ! although im sad the end is near, im glad i can finally lift this weight off my chest of for having postponed it for so long :D
> 
> the last part of this series is called A Lethal Combination and the whole thing is just going to be little one shots based on this universe, which means im gonna be taking requests for it :))) this is something ive always wanted to do and now i can finally do it !
> 
> last but not least, thank you for reading ! and thank you to my friends that helped my sort out the little details regarding this fic, it really means a lot :) 
> 
> song inspiration:  
billie eilish - watch  
isak danielson- don’t go  
alextbh - walls   
the wombats - lethal combination


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